


Teenage Dirtbag

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Child Neglect, Fist Fights, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is your typical dirtbag. So why does he even bother with thinking about Castiel Noel, the popular kid with the dick of a boyfriend and world on a plate?</p><p>Inspired by the song "Teenage Dirtbag"</p><p>(will add tags and warnings as story progresses)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gym Class in Half an Hour

“We really shouldn't be doing this.” Dean smirked into Castiel's lips, the latter holding him against the wall with a strong hold on his hips.

  
“Yeah, but I don't see you complaining.” Castiel breathed, deepening the kiss. “Besides, you do a lot more in worse situations with all those girls on the gymnastacs team.”

  
Dean smiled. “You been watching me, Noel?” He nipped at the man's lips, relishing in the noises it created.

  
“I was merely observing, Winchester.” Castiel bit back, teasing his thumbs across the skin right under Dean's shirt. Dean growled at the sensation, dropping his hand's to the smaller man's ass and squeezing. Castiel's breath hitched suddenly at the feeling, quickly moving his hands to undo the button on Dean's jeans-

* * *

  
“Dean. Deeaaaan. DEAN.” Jo waved a hand in front of the man who was zoned out in front of her. “Earth do Dean!” Dean jerked himself awake as the girl threw a french fry in his face.

“Yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” Dean cleared his throat and stared down at his untouched food before looking at Jo. “What were you saying?”

  
“Man, you got it bad, huh?” Jo teased, a smirk spreading across her lips. “Who is it this time?”

  
“No one.” Dean answered dryly, looking away and hoping the blush creeping up his neck behind his ears wasn't betraying him. Dean had no clue where that daydream came from. He had never thought of Castiel Noel like that. I mean, sure. He'd appreciated the man's stunning aesthetics, but that was it. But now, the image played back in his head as he tried to shake the thoughts away.

  
“Uh-huh.” Jo rolled her eyes. “Anyways. I was asking what your next class is.”

  
“You should know by now, Jo.” Dean teased. “Jeez. Friends with a girl for seventeen years and what? She doesn't have your class schedule memorized by midterm?”

  
“Shut up, Winchester.” Jo flung another fry at his face. “I bet you don't know mine.”

  
Dean, always happy for a challenge, smirked at her before clearing his throat.

  
“Well, it's Wednesday, and an A week. So that means today you had Algebra first block, followed by Biology. After Biology, you have Creative Writing. Now, it's fifth lunch, so you don't go back to Creative Writing after, so instead you go straight to your last class, which is Latin.”

  
Jo smiled and rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Winchester. Seriously. What class do you have?”

  
Dean returned the smirk as he answered. “Gym. Not looking forward to it at all.”

  
“But I thought you liked Gym?”

  
“Yeah, but now we are doing Navigation. I honestly don't understand what using a compass has to do with Physical Education!” Not that Dean really minded, he personally didn't care. It gave him a chance to walk around the campus the rest of the day, and the weather was beautiful. What he wasn't looking forward to is his partner. See, he was partnered with Castiel, the same guy he had been fantasizing about. And now, in thirty minutes he had to put the image of him splayed between Castiel and a wall out of his head.

  
The dude didn't even look at him twice anyways. Too wrapped up in his popularity. Apparently coming out as gay and then knocking out the first guy to attempt to beat it out of you made you somewhat popular. After that, more guys came out of the closet. It was as if homosexual was the new black. Anyway, Castiel was now popular and doing well, and didn't even know who Dean was, despite them being together in every partner activity in gym. They barely spoke to each other, just did their work and would say whatever was needed for the game at hand. Dean doubted Castiel even new his name.

  
Not exactly like Dean could blame him, though. I mean, Dean was a dirtbag in every sense of the word. He didn't come from money, or a stable home. He was always stuck in detention after a fight, or being caught making out in the closet with whatever girl (or guy in certain, rare, secretive occasions) it was that day. He was just no good in every sense of the word. The only people who paid attention to him were Jo, his best friend since practically birth, and whomever he had bedded that week. Anyone else who paid attention to him did so in order to avoid him. Dean was pulled out of his thoughts, again, by a french fry in the face.

  
“Dude, what the hell!?” Jo was definitely annoyed now. “Seriously. Who the Hell are you thinking of now? And don't give me any of that 'no one' crap. I know how you look when you have a crush.” Jo put a teasing emphasis on the latter portion of the phrase, showing that she was half joking.

  
“I don't have a crush. I'm just thinking of my latest conquest.” Dean lied, lips twitching up into a half smile as he started in on his meal.

  
“Yeah, sure.” Jo started, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder and grabbing her tray to bin it. “I have to head to the guidance office for my midterm appointment. When is yours?”

  
“Already had it.”

  
“Oh. Well, I'll call you tonight to discuss this mystery crush in private and vivid detail.” She smiled wickedly, walking away before Dean could stop her.

  
Dean groaned as he pushed his food away. He knew Jo, and he knew that she was serious about getting details on his crush. He also knew that she would stop at nothing until she found out, so there was no use in hiding from her. It's not as if the whole “man-crush” thing was a big secret. Jo was the one Dean confided in when he had his sexuality freak out two years back. Ever since then, he has told her of every conquest of his, male and female. He knew he could trust her, because he knew she would never tell a soul. He just also happened to know that she would not let him be about it. Jo was a horrible woman when it came to teasing Dean about his crushes.

  
Shaking away the nerves that now pooled in his gut, Dean stood up, threw away his Styrofoam tray of untouched food, and headed toward class. He knew he was twenty minutes early, but he didn't like sitting alone at lunch. Just something about sitting alone at a table eating made him feel weird. Like everyone else would be judging him for eating alone. Like everyone would be staring, and Dean was not going to be stared at and judged any more than he already was.

  
Dean made his way to the gym, praying away the thoughts of the fantasy still fresh in his mind. He had almost resigned himself to the fact that the images were now seared into his mind when he entered the locker room and froze.

  
Sitting on the bench in the middle of the room was the object of his current fantasy.

  
Castiel Noel, who was (thank God for Dean's sake) already changed into his gym clothes, was sitting there reading a book. Dean let his eyes wander across the boy. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, a pair of black knee length shorts, and -Dean had to stop himself from snickering – black Keds. Dean had never seen any man, sans the boy in front of him, wear Keds before. He always did. But the thought still made him snicker. Castiel had to be the only man on planet earth who wore Keds. But, oddly enough, Dean thought, the boy rocked them, along with the white tube socks he was sporting. Dean quickly tore his eyes away once he realized he had been staring a little too long, and shuffled into the smaller locker room attached to the side of the one he was currently in.

  
He took his time changing into his tattered band t-shirt and gym shorts, listening intently for any sign of Castiel exiting the locker room. It was soon made apparent that the boy would not be leaving any time soon, which annoyed Dean. The locker room was his sanctuary. Nobody would file in for a good five to ten minutes, and would currently be packed outside the gym. He didn't have to deal with anyone as long as he stayed in here. Now, however, if he stayed in here it was awkward. Castiel would think Dean was not leaving because he was in there or something, and that was just too awkward for him to handle. He knew he was being a girl about the situation, and Jo would laugh her ass off if he mentioned this to her but he didn't care at the moment. She didn't know what it was like. She wasn't a dirtbag. She had friends outside of Dean. She had a nice 2005 pickup and a boyfriend, Adam. She had Ash and Garth. She had her mom, Ellen, and a steady job at the family bar. She would easily be able to go outside and mingle with her classmates.

  
Dean? Dean had nobody. Dean had Jo during lunch and on the weekends, and Sammy in the evenings. Dean supposed he had his dad, but John was absent most of the time. Dean had a locker with the words “DIRTBAG” sprayed onto them starting sophomore year, still visible through the cheap paint job it was given junior year. Dean had an army of gymnasts and random bookworms pissed at him for the one night stands, his father's old Impala, and every Iron Maiden album on vinyl. That's all Dean had.

  
He decided to feign a reason to be in there, rummaging through his locker for some imaginary book or sock or something. Finally, people started piling in. After a good fifteen guys were gathered in the locker room, laughing and joking, Dean sneaked out into the gymnasium, climbing up to the top of the bleachers, nestling in the corner and closing his eyes until the whistle would blow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta reader, Karen (archivesofgallifrey on tumblr) for reading my rough draft. If anyone sees room for improvement just message me and you can be a beta reader as well.


	2. Doesn't Know Who I Am

Gym class goes by excruciatingly, painfully slowly as Dean and Castiel followed each bit of instruction to get to their next markers. For Castiel, it was probably going by fast, but for Dean it was slower than hell. He swore that two weeks alone with this guy would feel like five years, what with all the awkwardness on Dean's end. It wasn't just his looks, either (although, the always-sex-hair, small but muscular frame, and too blue to exist eyes were definitely not helping matters), it was the fact that Dean just felt... awkward.

  
The issue occupying more of his thoughts than should be allowed was where to even walk in relation to Castiel. If he walked behind, Castiel would think he was staring at him, which he would be, so Castiel would be right. However, if he stood next to him, it would just be awkward as well. Honestly, who just walks next to a guy? Dean supposed he could take the lead and walk in front, but didn't want to feel like Castiel was staring at him. Eventually, he just decided to stand half-next to, half behind him, looking anywhere but at Castiel. Luckily, about twenty minutes in, his mind was relieved of these thoughts and pulled back on task when he realized they weren't going in the right direction.

  
The instructor must have made a mistake, Dean thought as he looked at the page of navigations in his hand. They went thirty five paces west, then fifty paces north to north east, then were at pace eighty five out of ninety two south to south west when they hit the scoreboard wall in front of the woods by the baseball field. The instructor must have been on drugs.

  
“Probably is.” Castiel muttered, making Dean jump for two reasons. For starters, he hadn't realized he was speaking out loud. Secondly, he had never actually heard the guy talk, and his voice was just on the sexy side of gravelly. He had that “I've just had sex and am still aroused” voice, which was doing horrible things for the imaginative thoughts Dean had been struggling to suppress since lunchtime. Choking back the moan that threatened to escape his lips, Dean cleared his throat before speaking.

  
“Seriously. What? Did she put the next clue in the fuckin' woods on the other side of this?”

  
“Only one way to find out.” Castiel answered matter-of-factly, before hauling himself up and over the scoreboard. Dean gaped silently before expressing his concern.

  
“Dude. Why not just go around?” Dean looked at the other side of the fifty foot long wall and decided it was manageable to break through the opening between that and the home dugout.

  
Castiel turned to look over his shoulder and grin before dropping down to the other side.

  
“This way we don't lose our place.” Came his muffled, but still sexy as hell, Dean thought, voice from the other side. “You are welcome to go around. I will just stand and wait here.”

  
Dean felt his face flush. Was this asshole seriously mocking him, or was he being serious?

 

“Y'know, I'm not afraid to climb a fuckin' wall.”

  
“If you are, then no one is judging you.” Castiel replied, and Dean could just hear a shit eating grin on his face. Jaw clenched, Dean looked around to make sure no one was looking before hauling himself up over the wall. It wasn't that high – 9 feet max, he'd say, but it was still against the rules to climb shit on school grounds. He learned that the hard way in ninth grade when he hopped the smaller baseball field fence and climbed on top of the dugout one night to watch a meteor shower. Nonetheless, Dean hauled himself up and over the board with ease, looking down before dropping down to make sure Castiel was out of the way.

  
“There. Now. Would that climb count as pace eighty six?” Castiel asked innocently as if they hadn't just broken a school rule. Dean rolled his eyes and looked at the paper.  
“Eighty six, I'd say. Let's go.”

 

  
They spent the rest of the class in silence, minus the mutual agreement they made at pace ninety nine to just call it quits and go their separate ways to chill until it was time to leave. While Castiel went somewhere back toward the building, Dean ventured further into the woods until he found a tree that looked comfortable enough to sit against. He spent the next thirty five minutes trying very hard to not think about he had just barely had his first conversation with his current crush, which not only showed up completely unwanted and unexpected, but the chances of the crush becoming more than that were so impossible that he might as well aspire to go to college, or lead the first colony of moon settlers or something equally improbable. Still, that gravelly voice and those blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled. Why hadn't Dean noticed these before? Dean didn't even want to get started on those lips.

  
“I am so boned.” Dean whispered, banging the back of his head against the tree.

* * *

  
Dean wandered back into the gymnasium around 2:30 – five minutes later than he was supposed to – to find Castiel standing, looking at his feet near the gym instructor. Shit. Putting on his best, cheekiest smile, he strutted up to the instructor.

  
“Ms. Masters. Might I say you are looking lovely today?”

  
“Don't give me any of your crap, Winchester. You show up five minutes late, which is seven minutes later than your partner. How do you explain that?” The dark haired woman narrowed her almost-black eyes at Dean, making him shift a little before clearing his throat.

  
“We seemed to have gotten separated trying to figure out your stupid navigation. Ended up in the woods. I got lost, he apparently found his way out first. Really, you outta work on your navigation skills before you try and make us figure it out.”

  
“You think you're funny, Winchester?”

  
“I'd go more with adorable.” Dean knows he is just digging himself deeper and deeper into a hole, but he doesn't care.

  
“Well, Winchester. Your adorableness just granted you a week's detention.” Ms. Masters sneered before abruptly turning on the other boy.

  
“That goes for you as well, Noel.”

  
Castiel's eyes went wider than diamonds, exposing all 360 degrees of his topaz irises that should be illegal in Dean's mind.

  
“Wh-What did I do!?” Castiel sputtered. This was obviously his first time dealing with detention.

  
“You separated from your partner as well. Maybe a week's detention will do you good, anyhow.”

  
“But Ms. Masters,” Castiel retorted, “I have GSA, MUN, and familial obligations!”

  
“Yeah, well you should have thought about that.” Castiel opened his mouth again to retort when the bell sounded, drowning out whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

  
“Your detention starts Monday.” Ms. Masters concluded before walking away, leaving both boys to stand there awkwardly.

  
“Don't worry,” Dean reassured. “I have familial issues as well. I can get us out of it. I'm on speaking terms with Mr. Crowley.” Dean was surprised to hear the man snort in response.

  
“Thanks, Dave, but I am not going to weasel out of this. I don't need your pity.”

  
“First off,” Dean started, “It's Dean. Not Dave. Second, I'm not giving you pity. I'm just saying that I am on my way to speak with the Associate Dean of Student Affairs and would throw in a good word for you, since you did nothing wrong.”

  
“Sorry, but I don't try and get out of punishments. I take them. Like a good student is suppose to do when they do something wrong.”

  
“Yeah, well some of use can't afford to do that.” Dean muttered. Panic was starting to set in at the thought of what detention would mean. Still, despite the growing discomfort in his chest, Dean did what he always did and hid any anxiety he had as he turned, without saying another word to Castiel, and started for the Deans' office.

* * *

  
Before entered the office, Dean took a detour to an abandoned hallway and took out his cell phone, dialing the number needed out of memory before pausing, mustering up all the courage he had before dialling the number.

  
On the second ring, his father picked up.

  
“Dean? Is Sam okay?”

  
“Yeah, dad. Sam is fine.” Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to keep his voice steady. “Listen, there is a chance I may have detention next week, but I'm gonna do my best to get out of it.”

  
“Dammit, Dean.” John growled. “What the fuck did you do?”

  
“Got lost during navigation in gym and informed the instructor that it was due to her horrible navigation skills and poor instruction.” Dean looked at his feet, and the ceiling, the wall, in front of him. Bracing himself for the lecture he knew was coming.

  
“Fuckin' aye. If you get detention, do you know what this means for Sammy?”

  
“Yes sir.”

“What does it mean?”

  
“It means he's alone until six, sir.”

  
“With no ride home. No food. Dammit. When I am gone it is your job to protect your brother. What is the one thing I tell you every fuckin' time I leave?”

  
Dean cleared his throat and looked up, wishing the tears away that were now threatening to form. He cleared his throat.

  
“Look after Sammy.”  
“Look after your damn broth

er, Dean. And what do you do? You go and get yourself in a situation where you are leaving him all alone and unprotected. What if someone broke in? What if he has to walk home and gets hit by a car? What if something happened to him and you were not there because you were too damn stupid to not get your ass thrown in detention? What if this were the real world, Dean? You wouldn't be in detention, where you get out in a few hours. You'd go to jail. Then who would be there to protect your brother?”

  
Dean wanted more than anything to say “Well, certainly not you.” but he held his tongue. His father did the best he could, and with a job that had him on the road, he was right. It was Dean's job to look after Sammy.

  
“I'm gonna try and get out of it.”

  
“Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

  
“I'm gonna tell the Dean that I was wrongfully punished and that I have familial obligations or some shit. Gonna tell him how I am the only one who can pick up Sammy and bring him home.”

  
“Dean. You can't say that. That'll make it seem as though I am some god damn deadbeat that isn't around enough to take care of his family. You've used excuses like that before. They'll be suspicious that something is going on at home. Do you know what will happen then?”

  
Dean swallowed. “No, sir.”

  
“They'll take you and Sammy away. You'll be put in a group home for a few months until you turn eighteen. Then they kick you out. And then do you know what will happen?”

  
“No sir.”

  
“Sammy will be left all alone. He's only thirteen. They'll keep him in the system. He won't have a future.”

  
Dean wiped the tears that fought their way out before replying.

  
“I'll tell them that you're away on business until Wednesday, and Uncle Bobby won't get out of work to pick up Sam until six. That makes it seem like you are responsible enough not raise questions, and imply that Uncle Bobby is watching us until you are back.”

  
“Good. You better make sure they believe you, boy, or so help me.”

  
“Yes, sir.”

  
“Alright. I gotta go. Tell me what happens.”

  
“Yes, sir. Bye sir.”

  
Dean hung up and pocketed his phone before leaning his head against the locker he was currently propping himself up on. He allowed himself to take a few cooling breaths before heading to the Dean's office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to Karen (archivesofgallifrey on tumblr) for beta reading this, and putting up with my sad attempt at "lack of fuck" jokes in the process. Tell me what you think so I can keep improving this story.


	3. Just a Dirtbag

Dean walked up to the office wing and took a deep, calming breath before entering. The hall was just as it always was; ten doors on each side, surrounded by white walls, white ceiling, and way too bright florescent lights. The only things that stopped it from looking like a refurbished hospital wing was the fifty-shades-of-vomit-green and baby blue paisley carpet that looked like a blind man designed while severely intoxicated and the inspirational posters in between each door. He walked down the hall, looking at all the polished cedar doors, reading all the posters in the process. He had them all memorized by now; “INTEGRITY: Honesty and morality are the stepping stones to success” underneath a black and white picture of a winding road. “PERSEVERANCE: It's not our successes that define who we are, rather the path that lead us there” accompanied a photograph of the New York Skyline circa 1940. His favorite had to be the picture of the polar bear standing next to it's offspring, with the phrase “LOYALTY: Faithfulness and devotion can lead to strong bonds and allegiance.” He liked it because he had no clue what it had to do with school, but it reminded him of his family. He was there because of his brother. He had to be loyal to his father's word for Sammy. He had to do what his father said and finish school to set an example for Sammy. 

Incidentally, this poster one was right next to the door with the plaque reading “A. CROWLEY. ASSOCIATE DEAN OF STUDENT AFFAIRS.”

Dean turned the knob and entered the room. It was just how it always was; same white walls and white ceiling and bright lights as the hallway, same disgusting carpet. The room was small, large enough to just fit the worn two person couch with the rough canvas cushions that matched the blue in the carpet off the the right, with a small desk to the left. Behind the desk was a woman with sandy-blond hair and a decent amount of makeup. Dean smiled as he walked up to the desk and smiled.

“Miss Harvelle. You are looking magnificent today. How's the Roadhouse?” He gave her his best cheeky smile. Ellen Harvelle's smile was warm, but her eyes were cold.

“Dean Winchester don't try and sweet talk me. If you keep on ending up in this office I will have to ban Jo from hanging around you. What did you do this time?”

Dean knew that Ellen was only half-joking, which scared Dean the most. The woman was extremely protective of her only daughter, even if she didn't have time to properly watch over Jo like a hawk the way Dean knew that she wanted to, what with working days as the Dean's secretary to pay off the double mortgage that payed for the family bar that used to belong to her late husband, that she now ran every night. Dean didn't want Ellen to decide that he was too bad of an influence to hang around her daughter, since Jo was the only person Dean had besides Sammy and their “uncle” Bobby.

“Just told the teacher the truth about what I thought of her lesson plan. Apparently she didn't like that too much.”

Ellen sighed, exasperated, before rolling her eyes and pointing to the door to her right. “Let yourself in.”

Dean smiled at her before entered the room, knocking on the door three consecutive times as he opened the door.

A short, slightly stocky middle aged man looked up from the pile of papers that littered his small desk on the other side of the dingy room.

“Hello, Dean. Trouble again, I presume?”

“Nice to see you too, Crowley.” Dean smirked as he entered the room a little more, closing the door behind him. Crowley was a man who Dean would peg as a salesman rather than a Dean. He had this knack for persuading people to do things they probably would not normally do, threatening them or giving them incentives. For instance, he was very good at convincing teachers to let kids out of punishments. He was also the one in charge of the teacher's contracts, from what Dean gathered. Dean could only imagine what kind of power a man in that position could have over a teacher. The power to extend or shorten a contract as much as the law allows, which he happened to be very well versed in laws from what Dean had observed. His appearance, always in a crisp three piece suit, was only heightened by his British Accent and suave, fluid enunciation and diction. All in all, Dean always had the feeling that if Crowley were not a Dean, his office would have a wet bar in which he would offer his clients brandy or whiskey to loosen them up.

“So, what happened this time?”

“Just trying to give a teacher some constructive criticism about her instructions in navigation.”

“Miss Masters?”

“That'd be the one.”

Crowley sighed. “How many detentions?”

“Oh,” Dean smiled sardonically, “she blessed me with an entire week starting Monday.”

“Let me guess, you are here to speak with me about getting out of it.”

“No choice. Gotta make sure Sammy is alright.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes, causing Dean to swallow the lump he didn't know was in his throat.

“And where has your father run off to this time?”

“Business in Milwaukee. He'll be back Wednesday, but gotta pick up and feed Sammy until Bobby gets there at six.” Dean didn't dare look Crowley straight in the eye. He knew that Crowley could easily weasel information out of Ellen if needed. As stated, Dean knew that Crowley could be very persuasive, and Ellen knew the truth. Ellen's late husband, William, when not working at the bar, would accompany Dean's father on his adventures, leaving Jo and Ellen in the same way John left Sam and Dean. The only difference was, one day William never came back. John never went into much detail about it, but Ellen knew that what John did put Dean and Sam at risk of being orphans. Still, despite the mandated reporter law bullshit, she kept quiet about it. Ellen had warned him to keep his nose clean, though. If he kept getting in trouble, she would probably call child protective services and say that John was an unfit father or something, which would mean separation from Sammy. Dean didn't let himself think of this too much, though, as Crowley started talking again.

“And I suspect you are the only one to be punished this severely?”

“Actually, Castiel Noel was my partner and got the same sentence.” Dean answered before he could stop himself. He forgot that Castiel didn't want his help. Still, Crowley would find out anyway.

“Alright. I'll take that into account when I speak with Ms. Masters.” Crowley looked at Dean hard, as if he was figuring out what to do. “Okay, Dean, here is what I am going to do. Ms. Master's punishment seems a little too extreme, however, new rules say that I can't outright lift a punishment anymore, only exchange it. I will offer both you and Mr. Noel the option of trading your detentions for one that benefits everyone.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you mean?”

“Well, as you know, to graduate you need 50 community service hours. You may also be aware of the graffiti on the West Wing Wall, as well as the litter surrounding the campus. A week's detention is fifteen hours. So, I will offer to lift your detentions in exchange for community service. You would clean the campus of the garbage and graffiti every day from 9am until 6pm during Thanksgiving break. You'd start that Saturday and end that Wednesday, just in time for turkey.”

Dean blanched “Wait, that's fifty hours!”

“Fifty hours of community service you need to graduate, and the school needs. That is my final option. Consider it payback for all the freebee's I've given you over the years.”

“Yeah, and what would you offer Castiel?” Dean asked bitterly. He knew it wasn't his business, but if this was the smarmy bastard's way of getting revenge on Dean, he wanted to know how easy Castiel was going to get it. 

“Well, he's done his community service already,” _of course he has._ “and from your story I doubt he did anything wrong to begin with, but his offer is between him and me. I could lose my job if I told you.” Crowley smiled at Dean with a warning look in his eyes. Dean felt the familiar pang of embarrassment. Of course he wasn't allowed to tell him, it was against the student confidentiality laws. Still, Dean was now worried. What if Crowley somehow roped him into the same offer he was giving Dean? What if they had to work together for fifty hours non stop. Dean didn't know if that would be a good or a bad thing but, in case it was the latter, he didn't want to find out.

“Well, what will it be, Dean?” Crowley's words snapped Dean out of his thoughts. He didn't have time to worry about Castiel's punishment. He wracked his brain, trying to decide if he should take the offer.

_Dad won't be back by then, I don't think. If he is, he will more than likely have to leave again. Either way, I need to watch Sam that week. I could ask Jo or Bobby to make sure Sam is fine. Tell Dad I got out of it, but am working extra shifts at the salvage yard. I can have Bobby cover for me, hopefully._

“Yeah. Alright. I'll take you up on your offer.”

“Great.” Crowley smirked as he reached for the phone and started dialing an extension. “I'll let Ms. Master's know. Is that all?”

“Yeah. That's all. Thank you, Crowley.” And with that, Dean turned and left the office and grabbed his phone, dialing Bobby's number before he was even in the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. And thank you to my beta readers archivesofgallifrey and justanothercarelessshipper. Please leave a comment with feedback.


	4. Listen to Iron Maiden

The next day, Dean had heard back from Bobby and made a plan for Thanksgiving week; Bobby agreed to cover for him and tell Dean's dad that he was working at the Salvage Yard that week. He also agreed to watch Sammy during the break if their father still hadn't arrived. Needless to say, Dean was feeling an enormous weight lifted off his chest. In fact, Dean could have almost said it was a perfect day if not for the incident before lunch.

He was rushing down the hall, already late to meet up with Jo, when he heard someone yell behind him.

“Hey, Dan!” A gravelly voice that had to belong to Castiel rang out. It took Dean a few seconds to register that he was the being addressed. Honestly, it's not that hard to figure out my name, he thought bitterly as he turned around to face his addresser. He took a moment to survey the kid's appearance from toe to head. Castiel was wearing black Keds again, and a dark blue almost black straight legged jean that fit him perfectly. The waistline was hidden by a crisp black button up that fit his body in what Dean thought were all the right places, untucked at the bottom with the top two buttons undone. His sleeves were rolled up to right past his elbows, exposing just enough arm to show the lean muscles that were hidden in his small frame. His dark hair was mussed, his blue eyes sharp as he set a glare at Dean, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“It's Dean.” He said curtly.

“Yeah, whatever. I don't care.” The boy bit back, glaring at Dean as though he had just insulted his entire family. “Do you have anything you wish to tell me?”

Dean put on a confused, yet calm expression, hiding the nerves that just built up in his chest and stomach. He racked his brain trying to figure out anything he did or said that was wrong. Did Castiel know that Dean liked him? No, that was impossible. He hadn't even told Jo yet. Which reminded him that he forgot to call Jo back the night before; she had called when he was on the phone with Bobby and he never answered it. He quickly pushed that guilt aside to focus on the subject at hand. When he realized he was taking an awkwardly long amount of time thinking, Dean shook his head.

“No. Not that I know of.”

“Oh, really?” Castiel started, rolling his eyes before setting them to glare at Dean. “Then you don't know how my detentions got switched to an entire week of community service?”

Dean gulped. Shit was the only thing running through his brain. He hadn't thought that Crowley would give him the same punishment.

“I negotiated with Crowley to get my detentions changed. I didn't know he would change yours.” Dean looked him in the eyes. He really didn't see what the big deal was. This kid fucking loved community services from what he heard.

“You had to go and tell him that I got a detention too?” Castiel seemed offended, as though the concept of it was revolting.

“He asked if anyone else got in trouble,” Dean started, “I was hones-”

“I don't care what you were asked!” Castiel was yelling now, which shouldn't have been as terrifying as it was, since the kid was at least two inches shorter than Dean. “I told you that I didn't want to weasel my way out of my punishment and that I would take it. I'm not some, some-” Castiel seemed to be searching for the right word to use before his eyes, which had gone wide in his outburst, narrowed and his face smoothed out, as though an idea popped in his head. Fluidly, he squared his shoulders and stood straighter. His entire body language changed from manic to stern in a millisecond,as though he was suddenly sure of himself. Head tilted slightly, he looked Dean straight in the eye before continuing on. “I'm not some dead beat dirtbag who can't take a punishment like an adult.”

Deans eyes widened. He shouldn't have felt hurt, he didn't even know this asshole, but that didn't stop the emotion from creeping into his stomach like a hot coal. Dean forced himself to take a deep breath as he set his jaw and stood straight, mimicking Castiel.

“Well, I may be a dirtbag,” Dean bit back, a small smile reaching his face, “but at least I'm not some pompous dick who thinks he's better than everyone else.” Before Castiel could react or say anything, Dean turned on his heel and stalked away.

Instead of meeting Jo in the cafeteria, he ran into the bathroom, locked himself in an empty stall, and slunk against the wall, taking a few deep breaths. He was so sick of being called a dirtbag. He was sick of being one. He swore that if he had a nickel for every time he was reminded of how much of a dirtbag he was, then he could afford to take Sammy and run. Run from their father, run from their shitty town and lives. Run from everyone who ever doubted him.

He tried. He tried to not be such a piece of shit, and sometimes he thought he was at least half decent. Still, no matter what he thought. No matter what he did, someone was always around to remind him of what a shitty human being he was.

Dean must have lost track of time because before he knew it, the bell was ringing. Groaning, he tried to remember where he was suppose to be. It was Thursday, so he had study hall. Not like he was graded for study hall, so he decided it wouldn't be too horrible if he just skipped out. If anyone found him, he could just claim a sour stomach. Sitting on the toilet seat, he put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees and waited for the day to end.

* * *

When the final tone of the day rang, Dean waited five minutes before leaving the bathroom and heading toward the double doors in the front lobby of the school. He was almost to his car when he heard Jo yell behind him.

“Dean Michael Winchester!” the anger in her voice and the use of his full name made him stop walking and flinch. After giving himself two seconds to compose himself, Dean put on his best fake smile and turned around.

“Jo! Hey, how are you?”

“Don't give me that crap, Dean.” Jo stormed up to him, “I haven't heard from you since lunch yesterday. You weren't at lunch today, you weren't in study hall last block. What's going on?”

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. He scrubbed his hand with his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew he had to tell Jo, but not in front of the entire school, and not when he had to pick his little brother up at his middle school across town in fifteen minutes.

“Jo, I gotta pick Sammy up from school.”

“Oh, no, that's fine.” She replied, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “You've been ignoring me for God knows what and now you are just going to walk away. Fine.” She turned on her heel to walk away when Dean panicked. He reached forward and grabbed her by the elbow and spun her around.

“Look. I know, I fucked up, but it's along story that I can't and won't explain out here in the parking lot. Do you want a ride? I can explain it on the way if you really want.”

“My mom is giving me a ride.” She said curtly.

“Text her and tell her you are getting a ride from me.”

Jo glared at him for what seemed like an hour before rolling her eyes and looking away. “Whatever.” Jo violently jerked her arm away before walking around to the passenger's side of Dean's back '67 Chevy Impala. She wrenched the door open, got inside, an slammed the door shut.

“Hey! Watch the baby!” He bit back before climbing into the car himself. He quickly turned the engine, put the car in drive, and drove off out of the school parking lot and toward Sammy's school.

The first track of his Iron Maiden cassette had finished playing when Jo started to speak. “So. You had something to explain to me?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shit, Jo, I don't even know where to start.”

“The beginning is usually a good place to start.” Jo retorted, her tone was light, but Dean knew that she was getting annoyed. He closed his eyes and let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

“Fine. So the other day I was in gym- navigation- when my partner decided to split and show up at the end without me. We both ended up getting a week's detention, which wasn't an option because of Sammy, so I went to Crowley's office to see about an arrangement. He told me that I could exchange my detentions for a week of community service over the break, so last night I was on the phone with Bobby arranging everything. That's why I didn't call you.”

“Okay. And lunch today?”

“Well, apparently my partner got the same deal and wasn't too happy about it, so decided the hallway before lunch was a good place to confront me.”

“Did he start a fight?” Jo, who had been looking out the window the entire time, snapped her head to face Dean, a look of pure worry on her face.

“No, Jo, he didn't fight me. Just gave me a verbal bitch slapping.” Dean wasn't quite ready to explain to Jo that this partner happened to be his new crush, which she wasn't made aware of, so decided to leave it at that.

“That's a pretty long verbal bitch slap.” Jo added, clearly prying for more information.

“Yeah, well, I decided to take the rest of lunch to cool off before I pummelled him.” Dean answered. Okay, so he hated lying to Jo, but he did not want to have this conversation with her, especially since they were so close to the middle school.

“Wait wait wait!” Jo stared at Dean with confused eyes and a furrowed brow. “Dean Winchester does not walk away from a fight, nor does he 'cool off' for twenty minutes.” _More like two hours_ , Dean corrected her in his head. “So, maybe you were cooling down from what he said? But why would you need to calm down? You don't let things like that get to you easily unless you- Oh my God! You like this guy!”

“What!? No! I do not!” Dean started, staring intently at the road to avoid Jo's eyes.

“Yes you do! Oh my God!” Jo jumped a little in her seat, swivelling so that she was facing Dean, left leg bent up on the seat. “Who is it!? I want all the details!”

"Jo, I don't like anyone."

"Dean, I know you better than anyone else. You like this guy."

"Okay! Fine! I like this guy, okay!?" Dean snapped, he wished the conversation would end, but he knew his confession had just opened a dam that was blocking a stream of questions.

"Who is it?"

"No one."

"Tell me who it is!"

"No! Look, it doesn't matter, okay!?"

Jo was about to open her mouth to complain when, thankfully, Dean was just pulling into the middle school parking lot, where his little brother was walking up to the car.

“Jo, can we not in front of Sammy? I'll call you tonight if you really want to know, just please not in front of my little brother.” Right after Dean said this he cursed himself. After last night and today, he would have no choice but to call her and explain everything in full detail.

“Whatever you say, Romeo. I'll be waiting by the phone. And don't you dare think of not calling me.” Jo threatened and, luckily, said nothing more on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the tardiness of this chapter. Right after posting chapter three my course load increased and I had no free time. Fortunately, I just graduated, so the chapters will be uploaded on a more frequent basis.
> 
> If I am ever late updating again then feel free to send me messages on here and on my tumblr (allhailgigantorthemooseking).


	5. Boyfriend's a Dick

“Sam, it's not happening!” Dean practically screamed at his little brother.

“But Dean! We could use the money!”

“You aren't even legally allowed to work!”

“It's called an under-the-table job, Dean!”

Dean, who was currently standing in the kitchen cooking, leaned his back on the counter and scrubbed his face with his hand. He was way too exhausted to be having this conversation with his brother. He wouldn't have been so tired if he hadn't offered to give Jo a ride. Jo lived above the Roadhouse with her mom, which was located five minutes north of the high school, while Sammy's middle school was located five minutes east of their house, and fifteen minutes west of the high school. That meant that after picking up Sam, Dean had to drive northwest for twenty five minutes through after-school traffic, drop off Jo, then turn right around and backtrack twenty minutes before reaching their road.

“Sammy, no. I'm paying good money and working two jobs to pay for your education-”

“Exactly, Dean! Imagine how much financial and physical stress would be lifted from you if I got a job!”

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

“I'm working two damn hard to pay for your education and I'm not going to let you blow it away. All of your time needs to be focused on your education, Sammy. Especially if you still plan on going to some big wig ivy league college.”

“But-”

“I don't want to hear another word! Now get washed up for dinner, it'll be done soon.”

Sam stormed out of the room and up the stairs, slamming the door that Dean only hoped was the bathroom. If Sam went up to his room, then dinner would go to waste. Sighing, Dean continued cooking.

He knew he was being unfair. His brother was the same age he was when he started working. But the money part wasn't as big of an issue as Sam was making it out to be; they were doing well on their own. Granted they didn't have everything in the world like most of the kids at school, but the house they rented was in the nice part of town in a nice neighborhood. And when their father came home, he usually brought a nice bounty, and if he wasn't going to be home for a while would sometimes send some food money. Ellen and Bobby worked Dean hard enough that he could afford to keep them fed, the bills paid, and gas in the impala.

Still, perhaps he had been too hard on the kid.  As he chopped various ingredients and got others out of the pantry, he began to think of an idea that both him and Sam would be happy with. As he was opening a can of cream of mushroom soup, he thought of an idea to offer his little brother, but whether or not Sammy would take it was a different issue. He mixed the chicken, vegetables, soup, and canned onions into a casserole dish and threw it in the oven, setting the timer before taking the stairs two at a time.

Seeing the bathroom door open meant that Sam had decided to lock himself in his bedroom (mope in there was a better phrase than lock up, since neither Sam nor Dean had locks on their doors), which Dean was silently grateful for. Last time Sam got mad and locked himself in the small apartment's only bathroom it was early morning before the kid decided to stop moping and, coincidentally, before the fight that started it all, Dean had chugged a gallon of water. Needless to say, Dean was not ready to go through a bathroomless night again. He walked down the hall and knocked on Sam's door.

“Sammy. Let me in. I need to talk to you.” No answer. Dean sighed after a few seconds and pushed his way through the door. Sam was sitting on his bed, back to the headboard, nose deep in some textbook while ignoring everything around him.

"Sam," Dean started. Sam was silent, still buried in the book, but staring at it rather than reading it. Dean closed his eyes and took a calming breath. "Look, Sammy." Dean tried again, and was rewarded with no response.

"God dammit, Sam, look at me!" Dean said, getting more annoyed by the second. The irritation must have seeped through his voice, because Sam looked up at the older boy and closed the book on his lap. Dean closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued to speak.

“Look, Sam, I understand what you are going through. You want to be treated like a grown up and not a kid, so you're going to have a non-childish, grown up conversation that does not involve storming away. You understand?" Dean looked Sam in the eyes, the younger kid had swiveled his body so his feet were on the ground and he was facing dean. They looked at each other, Dean determined not to continue speaking until he had Sammy's word that he wouldn't storm away if he didn't like what he heard. Finally, Sam broke eye contact to look at the ground,  cleared his throat, and nodded.

"Use your words, Sam." Dean said, calmly, but with authority. He was going to have an adult conversation with this kid, and adult conversations meant adult behavior, which included speaking.

"Okay, Dean."

"Good. Now, I did some thinking and I believe I came to an answer we can both agree on.” Dean started, looking at his little brother. Sam, on the other hand, was continuing to stare at the floor, as if his life goal was to memorize every detail of the green carpeting. Dean pushed on.

“I know you want a job, but you are too young to legally have one. Now, Ellen and Bobby are the only ones who would consider hiring you, but are counting on me to watch after you, and would have my head on a plate with a side of cherry pie if the thought of you working for them even made it to their ears. However, you do need experience working to get a job in the future, and I hear it looks good on those college applications, and while a job is out of the question, what would you say if I helped you find a volunteer job?”

Sam's head snapped up and he looked Dean straight in the eye. “But what about mon-”

“Do not worry about money. We have it good, right? My two jobs aren't fucking up my schoolwork, and if you want money to do something, just ask me and we'll see if we can work something out. We may not have it best, but we are making due just fine.”

“Okay," Sam said slowly, a hint of doubt in his voice. "But you'd really be fine with me volunteering somewhere?”

“Only if your grades stay up. And I mean it, Sammy. The minute you slip up it's back to staying home and doing homework.”

“I promise, Dean. Thank you.” Sam said, his mouth slanted into a half smile before he got up, crossed the room, and hugged Dean and wow-when did his baby brother get so tall? He was almost the same height as Dean.

“You're welcome." Dean said, hugging him back hard before patting his back and pulling away. "Now get washed up like I asked. And set the table. Dinner will be ready soon.”

 

Dinner went by smoothly, Dean silently listening as Sam mentioned all the places he wanted to volunteer. He brought a pen and notepad down with him, and began to make a list of places that he knew were taking in volunteers, Dean saying the places he knew of, and crossing off the ones he did not want to do ("Yeah, as much as I love animals, the local ASPCA is crazy, I don't want anything to do with that..." "Volunteering at a candy store, I heard, is basically being an employee for free. You just sweep and clean and the guy who owns it is not nice. It's like being a slave...") He had just narrowed the list down to "library" and "kid's learning center" when they both heard the door open.

Dean was on his feet motioning Sam to stay sitting and quiet in a matter of breaths. He was sure he locked the door, so how did they get in? Unless...

Dean turned the corner to see a middle aged man in a leather jacket and boots, with what he can only describe as a military crew cut gone too long without cutting and more scruff than you could just call "stubble."

"Dad." Dean stated, unsure if he was happy or sad to see the man.

"Dean." His dad said, a soft smile on his lips. "It's good to see you. Where's Sam?" And just like that, the man was pushing past him and into the kitchen. Dean allowed himself a few breaths to feel hurt before reminding himself that this is how it went; their father came home, ignored Dean unless it had to do with criticizing him, fretted over Sam, fought with Sam, then left within the week. Dean composed himself and went into the kitchen, just in time to see the fight with Sam start.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam said, more like spat, at their father.

"What do you mean what am I doing here? I live here." John said, "And watch your tone with me."

"No. You don't live here. Dean and I live here. You just show up unexpectedly every now and then before disappearing for god knows how long."

John sat at the table, across from Sam, and started to speak calmly.

"Sammy, you know it's my job to-"

"No!" Sam was on his feet, screaming, "It's not your job. It's some obsession for justice that will never come! And don't call me Sammy."

Dean did not want to hear this fight for the hundredth time, so grabbed his coat from its resting place on the chair and stalked out of the house. He would give himself an hour. That would be enough time for the fight to break out, die down, and for both of them to calm down. Then he would go in, and play peace keeper like always.

As he walked, Dean tried to think about what life would have been like if his mother were still alive, but since this was all he knew, he found it impossible.

Before he could delve too much into the past, he heard a loud and familiar laugh coming from the house at the end of the block. Dean looked up at the large house (one of the more expensive ones on the block, four bedroom three bath kind of houses with a foyer and a large perfectly kempt lawn) to see an IROC parked outside. Of course, that laugh was from Castiel, who was more than likely on a date with Balthazar.

Balthazar was a dick, to put it nicely. In an alternative universe where Dean had a say, he would say Balthazar was more of a teenage dirtbag then himself, which was saying something since Dean knew he was scum. This dick brings a gun to school, according to rumor and a few eye witnesses. The thing is, his father was the head honcho of the school, Crowley's boss's boss's boss, so good ol' Balthy got away with everything under the sun. He was the only guy douchey enough to drive a sky blue 1988 Camaro IROC-Z to school every day. Once he saw him hit a kid on a bike pulling into the school and had the balls to get out of his car and scream at the poor injured guy for scratching his ride. Not to mention his horrible accent. He grew up in the heart of Lawrence, Kansas, and had some douchey French-meets-British accent going on. It almost, as Jo put it one day, sounded like he was born and raised in France and learned how to speak British English. Dean preferred to think he just had a horrible speech impediment and tried to cover it up with a European accent. What Castiel (or anyone, for that matter) saw in the guy was a mystery.

As Dean passed the house, he remembered that he was suppose to call Jo and tell her his big ol' crush. Sighing, he pulled out his phone, checked how many units he had left (only 60. Gotta remember to fill up tomorrow) and dialed Jo's number.

"About time you called." Jo said after the second ring, as though she had been sitting by the phone waiting for his call (which in all honesty was probably what happened).

"Yeah, sorry. Shit came up. Had to make Sammy dinner then my dad popped up."

"Uh oh." Jo said and Dean could practically hear her brows furrow in worry. "Everything go okay?"

"I don't know. Kind of walked out of the house before they could start killing each other. Anyway." Dean cleared his throat. "New topic. You wanted me to call?"

"Yes!" Jo exclaimed, sounding like the 17 year old girl he kept forgetting she was. "Spill. Who is he or she?"

Dean looked around, all of a sudden very conscious of how close to Balthazar's house, and subsequently Balthazar and Castiel, he was. Dean wasn't as scared of Castiel finding out as much as he was Balthazar. To put it simply, he'd kick his ass if he knew Dean liked Castiel.

"Uuuh, now that I think about it, I'm not in a very good spot to talk about it."

"Where are you?"

"Going for a walk around the block."

"So they live in your neighborhood?"

"Not exactly." Dean suddenly became very interested in the motion of his feet across the sidewalk and less interested in this conversation.

"Well, give me a hint." Jo sighed, obviously wanting to know who this "secret crush" was more than Dean wanted to talk to her about it.

"Uh, like what?"

"Oooh, twenty questions. I can do this. Animal rock or mineral?" Jo laughed, causing Dean to relax a bit. He didn't explicitly state aloud in this conversation that they were talking about a crush, so what could the harm be of giving her a few hints?

"Alright, here's a hint. I got in a lot of trouble with them the other day."

"I already knew that part, dumbass. Give me another hint."

"They don't know my name. First I was Dave. Then I was Dan."

"So they are too self-centered to remember the name of their gym partner."

"You could say that." Dean smirked to himself. He loved how good at deductions Jo was. A real life Sherlock.

"Well, now that I ruled out like, ten people, give me another hint."

"They are kind of a dick." Dean said, looking up at the sky.

"Dick not bitch. So it's a guy?"

"Yes." Dean rolled his eyes. Partly at Jo's ability to figure this out so easily, partly at himself for not being as cryptic.

"Why do you go after the scum of the school?"

"Because I'm a masochist who likes to suffer through unobtainable crushes that will literally crush my soul with their lack of humanity?"

"Well I could have told you that. Alright. Let me get the facts straight. Guy. Dick. Self-Centered. Okay. I take it they are self-centered enough to be in the 'in crowd' so I'm not even gonna ask. Oh my God please don't say Balthazar!"

Dean silently laughed then made a fake gagging noise. "Ugh, please. No. But close."

"Oh. Oh! Ohhhh!" Jo practically screamed, obviously fitting the pieces together. "You like Castiel What's-His-Face! Castiel Noah? Nolan? Novak?"

Dean huffed out a breath. And blushed. "Noel."

"I was close. Anyway. Are you alright after he confronted you today? What did he say?"

"Nothing. Just the usual spiel about being a dirtbag who drags people down with them blah blah blah."

"Well, we all know that that bullshit is not true. You are the farthest thing from a dirtbag."

"You realize stroking my ego does nothing, right?" Dean said, feeling defeated. No matter how many times Jo told him he was worth something, he couldn't believe her. She was his friend, after all, it was her duty to make sure he didn't feel like shit. She was therefore obligated to lie to him and tell him how much of a non-dirtbag he was.

"Yeah yeah Mr. 'self-depreciation.' I happen to know for a fact that you are not only smart but you are dedicated and loyal and funny. The stuff you do for your family and friends completely wipes away your school rep. And I have it on goo knowledge that if other people at school would see you the way your brother, my mom, Bobby, and I do, then they would be calling the Balthazars of the school dirtbags, not you."

Dean rolled his eyes. The first few times he heard this from her he partially believed her and had to stop from crying, which was embarrassing to say the least. She said this to him when they tried scrubbing the spray paint off his locker. When a guy started fighting him and Dean was the one who got the suspension. When his father yelled at him about getting sick and not being able to go to school and work to support Sam. But now, after what must be the thousandth time hearing this, he just couldn't find it in himself to believe it.

"Anyway," Jo went on, snapping Dean out of his thoughts. "I'd love to keep talking an tell you how wonderful of a brother, worker, son, and friend you are, but I gotta get to sleep. Mom has to go into work at seven so I gotta be up by five-thirty to go with her. Good night, and let me know how the deal with your father and brother goes, alright?"

"Alright. Will do, Jo. Have a good night, and see you tomorrow."

Dean hung up the phone and looked up, realizing that he was unaware of where his feet had lead him. He felt as though rocks had landed in his stomach when he realized that he was only a few yards away from the entrance to the cemetery his mother was buried in. With a shiver that had nothing to do with the October chill, he turned around, only to run straight into his brother.

"Jesus, Sammy!" Dean started, trying to slow his heartbeat down. "How long have you been following me?"

"Since you left. I didn't want to fight with dad and I was sick of worrying for over an hour about where you had gone, so I followed you to clear my head and make sure you were alright."

"Why didn't I hear you?" Dean asked. He was always so good about watching his surroundings that he almost felt embarrassed that he didn't see his lanky brother trailing him. Said lanky brother merely shrugged and kicked at some imaginary thing on the sidewalk.

"I was quiet."

"You were quiet."

"I was quiet." Sam repeated, looking around. "So," He looked at Dean, sly smile appearing on his face, "Does talking about your crushes always land you at the cemetary?"

Dean looked down at the ground and scratched the back of his neck, nervous and embarrassed at the fact that his brother overheard his conversation. His stomach then made a sick twist at the prospect that Sam knew he liked a guy.

"You heard that, huh?" Dean said, trying to remain calm until he knew what Sam knew.

"I heard that you like someone and that you still think you are worthless, which is not true, but you don't listen to anyone, so that's unimportant. Now. Who is she?"

Relief flooded through Dean as he realized Sam said "she" instead of "he."

"You wouldn't know 'em." Dean said, being careful of gender pronouns so to not lie to his brother, nor give away his secret.

"But I might know her brother or sister if she has any at my school!"

"Then I'm definitely not telling you." Dean said as he remembered that, yes, Castiel did have a younger brother, Samandriel, who he remembered Sam mentioning ("Honestly, Dean. How weird is it that both of our names are Sam, but his is weird. Samandriel. What kind of twisted parents do that to a child?")

"Oh come on, then give me a first name."

"Not happening, Sammy." Dean said, pushing past his brother to walk home.

"Come on, Dean, you don't have to give me the full name. Nor do you have to tell me what they look like. Okay, maybe you can tell me basic features so I can put a face to the not-full-name, but still. That's all I'm asking."

Dean sighed and scrubbed his face, turning on his heel to look at Sam. _Well, you can't say Cassy because that's only what Balthazar calls him. You can't say Castiel because that's a dead giveaway, but, Noel can be a girl's name, right? And Sam_ did _say that he didn't want a full name, which means only a last name counts, right?_ Smiling to himself, Dean looked down at the ground before he spoke.

"Noel."

"Yeah, I know." Sam said, smugly, walking up to Dean and dragging him along toward home. "I heard you say her name to Jo. But now that I know you are going to talk about her to me, what is she like."

Dean groaned internally, grabbing Sam around the shoulders (seriously, when did the dude get so damn tall?), causing the younger Winchester to have to crouch down.

"Come on, Mister 'I like to spy on my brother,' I'll tell you on the way home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a terrible person for taking this long to write such a short chapter. Stuff and life have gotten in the way and I swear I just spent so long not only writing this but writing outlines for the next few chapter so that something this horrible should never happen again.


End file.
